


Love will tear us apart - the happy end

by fairywearsbootz



Series: Love will tears us apart [2]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Ending, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairywearsbootz/pseuds/fairywearsbootz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When I had finished <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1056816">the main story</a> I was feeling pretty bad for Erik, also I realized that everything I write is dark and morbid and ends in horrible things for all my characters. So I wrote an alternate happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love will tear us apart - the happy end

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful [azewewish](http://azewewish.livejournal.com/). Originally posted to [LJ](http://fairywearsbootz.livejournal.com/7495.html) on 24-13-2011.

Rain's dripping down the trees, running along branches, onto Erik's helmet and right into his collar. He hugs himself, his teeth chattering as he watches the brightly illuminated windows of the mansion. 

Somehow it's only fitting that the bushes pricking his left leg are roses.

There's no light in Charles' rooms. He could've moved in all the months Erik's been.. elsewhere, but they're on the ground floor. Convenient, now that he'll never be able to walk again, all just because Erik couldn't–

“For God’s sake, Erik,” Charles voice suddenly comes from behind him. “Why don’t you just knock?”

Erik startles, whirls around. His slacks catch in the thorns and rip with a loud, tearing sound.

The view of Charles in a wheelchair is not as weird (uncomfortable? Guilt-inducing? So many emotions to pick from) as he thought it'd be. Of course the way Charles is staring at his half-naked leg with a mix of annoyance and suppressed amusement also works to take his mind off things.

“Well,” Charles says dryly, “at least you don't beat around the bush regarding your intentions here.”

“That's–“ Erik splutters.

“Don't they know how to make proper pants wherever it is you're hiding this week?” Charles regards him with a look that's perfect British upper-class, right up to the delicate arch of his left eyebrow.

“These are absolutely adequate pants for a decently warm climate,“Erik scoffs. “And how did you even know I was out there?”

Charles gives a sigh that hovers somewhere between world-weariness and slight despair, a sigh that teachers dealing with teenagers all over the world have toned to perfection.

“Hank could hear your teeth chattering from a mile away. Also, that God awful helmet reflects the light quite noticeably.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why are you here, Erik?

_Because I wanted to say I'm sorry. Wanted to see how you're doing, now, with everything that happened._

_Because I love you._

“I guess I don't really know,” he says eventually. His fingers reach up to his helmet almost involuntarily. It's strange, to talk to Charles without him picking up even the slightest of his thoughts, his emotions.

With a small huff Charles closes his eyes. “Of course not.”

The wheels of his chair make a squelching noise as he starts to move back towards the lights of the mansion. Becomes a shadow, a mere outline, right in front of Erik's eyes.

“When we first met,” Erik says, the words tumbling from his tongue as if of their own will, “you jumped into the ocean, at night, to help me.”

Charles looks back, startled. “I guess I did.”

“I think that was the stupidest thing I've ever seen anyone do. Even the Nazis had more common sense. You could have died. I could have killed you. You didn’t even know me, and I had just destroyed an entire ship.”

Charles stares at him with the expression of a man who doubts his sanity. “This is why you came here? To tell me I’m stupid?”

Erik takes a deep breath, flicks a branch next to him. Raindrops spatter all around him. “I think we know who’s the stupid one here,” he says.

When he looks up again Charles has covered his face with one hand, a strangled noise escaping his throat.

“Charles?” Erik takes a step forward, reaches out tentatively. Charles' hand shoots forward, grabs a fistful of his coat and yanks hard enough Erik has to take another step to not just fall into his lap.

“Please, just _shut up_.” Enraptured, Erik stares at Charles' mouth where his teeth are digging into his bottom lip, unable to contain his smile.

Then Charles lets go of him, sets his chair in motion to head towards the house again. “We have some scones left, I think,” he calls over his shoulder. “But tea's out, you'll have to make some yourself.”

Erik throws a glance back at the dark, cold, lonely bushes where Azazel will pick him up in an hour. With a shrug he turns and follows Charles.

 _Just for a cup of tea_ , he thinks.

The wind blows through the trees, shakes loose another silver shower of raindrops onto the muddled mess of foot and wheel prints they've left behind.


End file.
